Thousand Miles Journey
by Akylae
Summary: AU Mayfield - 12 page one-shot where House doesn’t rap Hallmark lines; music boxes don't provide 2in1 coma awakenings; married women don’t have affairs with asylum inmates and patient’s brother’s wives don't do what, where and whenever they please.


**Thousand Miles Journey**

_Single-scene fic set entirely in the quiet room.  
Standard disclaimers apply. Made for practice, not profit.  
Feedback welcome. Enjoy._

A tired House sat dejected in the gloomy corner of a featureless room, slouching lethargically against the padded wall. Calloused hands lay still on long legs stretching out over a white mat as blue eyes stared vacant at an imaginary spot between his bare feet. Disordered network of fine wrinkles crisscrossed the white tandem of oversized tee and drawstring pants, sullen face framed by a recently sprouted beard.

Massive door opened noiselessly on the opposite end of the cubical cell, releasing a light current of cooler air that spilled slowly over the ground.

He remained completely immobile, not acknowledging the subtle entrance of an unexpected visitor. Completely discouraged, he saw no point in leaving if nothing would change for the better.

"Mind if I come in for a chat?" Asked a deep, calm voice.

The words struck like a punch in the gut but House showed no sign of it. "Would you leave if I say 'yes'?" he mumbled before hopelessly facing the dark giant with flat features and short gray curls.

The massive man tilted his head in curiosity. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked as if already knowing the reply.

House returned to staring at the ground. "I'd tell you if it would make a difference." the words were nigh inaudible.

"Tell me to go and I will." Nolan replied instantly.

House remained hesitantly silent, gingerly massaging his sore thigh with a light rub of an open palm.

Taking off the formal shoes, Nolan cautiously stepped inside with the hushed rustle of socks on leather. "I don't like to be alone either." The off-hand confession was uttered in a tone indicating some mysterious deeper meaning. Despite a slow gait, Nolan crossed the short distance quickly, his dark silhouette towering over House.

Sudden unease made House turn his back to the corner's relative safety and pull up his legs closer like a barrier. He embraced the bony knees, closing down like a frightened child.

Seeing the anxious reaction, Nolan slowly lowered himself beside House, just outside his personal space, before leaning back calmly in deliberate imitation of the man's pose. "I take into account everything people say." he commented in a soothing tone. "A professional deformation."

"You rejected my opinion." House bit off bitterly.

"For sound medical reasons." Nolan spoke more fluently, as it to a slow or stubborn pupil.

"Sure." Sarcasm slipped into House's voice. "Detox usually erases a lifetime of professional experience."

"I don't doubt your knowledge but you admitted yourself for a reason."

"Yes." His admission fell like an accusation. "Drug induced hallucinations. Self diagnosed." House bragged, proudly pointing at himself. "Detox over, hallucinations gone. End of symptoms following end of exposure - diagnosis confirmed." House swiftly broke eye contact, glaring stubbornly at the opposite wall.

"Ten years of narcotic use without a psychotic incident would indicate otherwise. As would a total breakdown preceded by three deaths." Nolan gave the explanation from the point of his specialty. "Hallucinations were merely a vent for your issues."

Frustrated, House arched his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not hallucinating anymore, so the cause is irrelevant."

"If there's a deeper cause you could relapse." Nolan insisted. "The hallucinations could return in the middle of a differential."

"Could." He nodded. "Meaning they might not. If they do, so will I. Until then I'm fit to do my job."

"The board thinks otherwise."

"The board will do whatever you tell them." House faced him stubbornly. "You'd just like to pick through the prisoner's head. Lucky for me, I still have the right to remain silent. Or has that changed too?" He gave an accusing look.

Nolan licked his full lips in some kind of express self-calming ritual. "Nothing has changed, I'm not doing this for fun, and you're not a prisoner."

"Really?" House faked curiosity before pointing his chin at the door. "Where's the knob?"

"You're here because you've set back the progress of other patients."

"I warned you." House grated out. "You keep me from doing my job, I keep you from doing yours."

Nolan made the straight-man face. "Tit-for-tat by sabotaging the innocent?"

"If you don't care about them enough to let me go, why should I?" House played his bluff.

"I do care about them. But I care about you also." Chestnut brown eyes softened.

"Now I doubt your competence on the ground of failing first grade math."

"There's no need for insults." Nolan's tone turned a shade harder.

House stiffened in response. "Fine, you can stop insulting my intelligence then."

Nolan frowned in confusion. "When did I ever claim you were stupid?"

"You act like I am." House hissed. "Don't try to justify this, it's condescending. I was shocked on arrival, but I know the rules. Voluntarily admitted can leave at will." He kept glaring to no effect.

"Unless dangerous or suicidal." Nolan pointed out.

"I'm only dangerous if provoked." A treat slipped into the cadence.

Nolan sighed his exasperation. "I read your chart - five attempted suicides in five years."

"No." House barked back adamantly. "You think I'm an idiot? If I wanted to kill myself I wouldn't _need _five attempts."

"If you're _not _an idiot, why toy with your life like that?"

"More important things obviously. Patients maybe? Last I checked selflessness was a virtue."

"Except you're the one doing medicine for fun instead compassion." Nolan returned the ball.

"I save lives." House straightened as he spoke. "Motive doesn't matter."

"It matters a lot." Nolan held his ground. "Not caring if you live or die is a clear sign of severe depression."

"A diagnosis I share with many licensed physicians." Electric blue eyes flashed ire at Nolan. "One I coped with for years without anyone questioning my competency."

"You coped?" Nolan deadpanned, daring him to admit the truth. "You came here addicted to at least three substances."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" House stood his ground, glaring back.

Nolan ducked his head in a bull-like gesture of persistence. "That's all you want? To survive?"

"Like you care." House muttered.

"I do care."

"Well maybe if I had reason to trust you…" the words were hissed, as if something worse was held back.

"Why don't you? What have I done-?"

"You changed the rules!" House snapped, yelling in his face. "I volunteered for four weeks of hell that I wouldn't wish on anyone, on the implicit promise that I'd be free to go when it's done. Now I'm clean and you're saying I can't go!?" The rant died in a heave.

"I can't sign you out-"

"What are you - dyslexic?" House fell back on demeaning. "Paralyzed? Maybe we should switch roles?"

"I doubt you are coping as well as you think you are." A hand rose to cut off a protest before it was spoken. "If you give up this early in your recovery you'll eventually risk your life again. Because you won't be at work in a hospital, it is likely you will lose it. I have a right to keep you if I believe you will otherwise end up dead. Would you rather that I let you go without treatment?"

"Yes." House nodded curtly. "Yes I would." He stood up and hobbled away, leaning on the wall for support in absence of his cane. "I would leave and ask for second opinion." He spun around to continue the face-off from a safe distance and with the advantage of height. "And if the other guy insists on treatment I would deal with it like everyone else does - as an outpatient."

Nolan was confident enough not to move from the floor. "And how would you live?"

"I was single and department head for ten years." House replied without pause. "I didn't buy that many sneakers."

Nolan made an almost offended face. "I'm not asking about money. You think you'd do better without a purpose?"

His vision went blurry from unshed tears, fisted hand shaking in effort to stay calm. "You should have thought about that before." House whispered, not daring to use a failing voice.

Alarmed, Nolan rose slowly and approached even slower.

House spun around in refusal of his comfort and felt a sudden loss of strength. He leant on the door frame, letting his head hang. Rancid bile quickly rose up his tight throat from the nauseating, almost physical pain.

A blurry-edged shadow slipped closer across the floor.

"Don't touch me." House hissed.

Nolan held back, hovering just behind him. "Why are you so obsessed with going back to work?"

"Because I'm a doctor!" House snapped in desperation and defiance. "That's the only thing I've accomplished. Only thing I've got…"

"But not the only thing you _are_."

"What else am I?" House looked up. "An athlete, musician? Definitely not husband and father. Or friend…" He mumbled. Sudden knock on the door shocked him out of balance and he stumbled backwards into the nearby wall.

A younger version of Nolan, dressed in pale scrubs, hesitantly opened the door. "Doctor Nolan, it's time."

Nolan watched House slide down the wall and fold into a silent, trembling ball. "Not now, Jenkins."

"Sir, the meeting-"

"Jenkins, I don't care if they just brought in the president. Not. Now."

The orderly nodded briskly. "I'll tell Dr Randall to wait."

"Please do." Nolan saw the door close and turned to House, sitting down so their shoulders touched, only to have House squirm away. He sighed. "How's your leg?"

A palm opened, rising slightly. _'Five.'_

"When did you last take your meds?"

House sniffled. "Morning."

"You missed a dose." Nolan realized. "Need one now?"

"I can handle it." He wiped his eyes.

"Want to go out?"

"The ward is not 'out'." House was quiet. "It's just a bigger cell. The whole hospital is one big cell." Hand rose for emphasis but fell back impotent.

"It's a lot more pleasant than here." Nolan pointed out.

House looked at him befuddled. "How is it more pleasant surrounded by reminders of stuff you're denied?"

"Like what?" Nolan was genuinely curious.

"Locked up piano for starters." House waved a hand aimlessly. "Bared windows."

"Would you like a key? I doubt _you_'d be making a racket."

"Stop it." House felt a mental tipping point appear and pulled back with a jeer.

"What?"

"This. … The fake freedom." House sought words to explain the frustration. "Choosing whatever I like, as long as it's from your menu, on your schedule, in your designated area." He sighed, exasperated. "You treat me like I've lost forty years and fifty IQ points." He briefly swept an appraising look around. "At least this place is honest. What you see is what you get."

"But you have nothing here." Nolan insisted with both palms open.

"I've got nothing in there either." House faced Nolan, desperation all over his face. "You changed my status, took my rights, chopped them up and cleverly renamed them privileges so a bunch of self righteous geeks can have stuff to bait me with." Resentment slipped to a trembling voice. "Day pass night pass, ground access, smokes… I'm not kissing asses to get back what's supposed to be mine already."

"So now you're staying here in order not to say here." Nolan pointed out. "Very sane."

House fumed in frustration of hearing his plan twisted against him. "Don't play semantic games."

"MAD is the worst strategy in this situation."

"Nice pun." House snarked. "But in this case its perfect. You're the one whose success rates will plummet from state's highest into the negatives. I've got nothing to lose."

"That's not true." Nolan called the bluff. "This room wasn't meant to be lived in. Come back often enough and the lack of stimulus will start to get to you. Those daydreams you now take shelter in will become frighteningly realistic very soon."

"Then I'll be one more patient you wrecked." House was committed. "We've already established I don't care."

"Can I suggest a hypothesis?"

House swallowed bile, fighting off a wave of nausea. "Great. Patronizing. I was wondering what's going to be next."

Nolan ignored it. "I think you do care." He said calmly. "A lot. If you truly didn't, you wouldn't be fighting me so fiercely for so long. You _would_ have killed yourself the first time. Attempted suicide is a call for help. I heard you." His voice softened further. "Now let me help you."

"I don't want your help." House clenched his teeth and felt Nolan's eyes on him, waiting for an explanation. "You said you read my file. Did you see the big folder in the middle?"

"Of course." Nolan nodded. "The infarction."

"Remember how long it took to diagnose?"

"Couple of days, I think. Why? What was their first idea?"

"That I was a junky." House looked up with tragic amusement.

Nolan closed his eyes. "That 's… sadly ironic."

"Tell me about it." House huffed.

"So when did they realize the truth?"

"They didn't." He stiffened. "Physician, heal thyself."

"Self diagnosis?" Nolan guessed.

"Again." House looked aimlessly around, his indiscriminate disrespect self-evident. "Know what happened later?"

"You initially refused amputation, opting for unblocking in hopes of spontaneous repair. But after suffering a heart attack you chose a partial excision to-"

"Coma." House interrupted.

"I'm sorry?"

"I asked for induced coma to sleep off the initial phase." He kneaded the thigh by instinct.

Nolan frowned his incomprehension. "Why would you ask for it if you told your proxy to go ahead with excision?"

"Because I didn't." House muttered, bitter.

Nolan's face fell slightly as comprehension dawned. "The proxy overrid your wishes and the doctor in charge chose their decision over yours."

"See why I might have a problem with this situation?" House faced him calmly for the first time.

"You believe I also betrayed your trust and abused my authority by moving you to long term care."

House turned away and shut his eyes, fighting a welling up of tears.

"You had to be restrained for detox or you would have hurt yourself. That kind of situation automatically makes you an involuntary patient."

"Yeah, about that… It's kind of hard to believe someone who ties you up and drugs you after you've just begged them for help."

"I'm sorry you felt that way." Nolan sounded genuinely apologetic. "I saw no other way." His explanation didn't come off as an attempt at excuse.

"Forget it." House waved it off.

"No." Nolan was adamant. "The fact you've come to expect disregard doesn't mean you can continue suspecting everything. Long term solitude isn't healthy." The strange understanding resurfaced briefly. "The need to belong is very basic and strong even in introverts who need just a few people to rely on."

"That's just it." House spoke sadly. "There aren't people I can rely on."

"Given your character, I gather there's evidence to support it."

House nodded shakily.

Nolan made a thoughtful face. "I need you to trust me-" he mused. "...in order to build your ability to trust. "

"Huston, we have a problem." House sighed.

"Perhaps not. Trust can be given, but it can also be earned. What can I do to get you to trust me?"

"Nothing?" House looked up, sounding a little scared.

"Is there anything that would prove I sincerely have your well being in mind?" Nolan implored.

House shrugged. "I don't know."

"You have no ideas?" Nolan persisted.

"I can't think of anything." House shook his head, feeling more and more a failure by the second.

Nolan pulled back. "Take your time."

House was silent for a long while, working to calm down. "... Trust." He finally uttered.

"Trust would make you trust me?" Nolan was briefly confused, but quickly struck by the simple elegance. "Tit for tat with a positive start. It's actually an ingenious proposal." His tone was one of indirect praise. "What made you think of that?"

"I dunno... I just-" House sighed. "Everyone's first instinct is to suspect me. Everyone expects the worst." He veered into dejection.

"I hate to point this out, but you have a history of manipulation."

House fell silent.

"If I promise to trust you from now on, would you do the same?"

He shrugged. "I could try."

"I promise to take your word over anyone else's. Until I discover you're up to something."

"Same here."

Nolan smiled encouragingly. "That's good. That's very good."

House looked down.

"You look uncomfortable." Nolan noticed. "Is this your usual response to praise?" He avoided specifics to make things easier on the man.

He chuckled. "I'm not usually praised."

"I suspected as much." Nolan said dully before his face morphed to intense focus of an inspiration examined. "Twice so far you said you diagnosed yourself."

"I did."

"It's possible your demeaning attitude stems from witnessed incompetence." He ran with generalities in hopes of keeping House open.

"And the idiots I treat." House said. "Seriously, you should meet some of my clinic patients."

Nolan ignored the deflection. "Coupled with disregard it would also explain your attitude to authority."

"Probably." House shrugged.

"Of course, both could be a result of impossible standards." He gave a curious, loaded look.

House suddenly found the threads of his pajamas very interesting.

"Most patients find my physique reassuring. Steadfast." Nolan changed the subject inexplicably. "You appeared scared when I approached you."

He froze, stray strand half-way plucked.

"Does it have anything to do with your frequent childhood trips to the doctor?"

House looked surprised. "How did you get those files?"

"It wasn't easy. Especially the ones form the army hospitals."

Curiosity lingered in House's expression.

"Earliest experiences are most relevant." Nolan gave the textbook reply to the unspoken question and instantly gave up the transparent cover-up. "I saw the paternity result." He admitted. "A man doesn't test his heritage at your age unless there are major parental issues involved. Certainly not after his father's death."

House seemed relieved to find Nolan already knew.

"Esteem and morals are just some of the things we pick up form our parents." Nolan let slip another hint of his own problems. "Even if we know they're wrong, sometimes we simply don't know what else to imitate. Especially if exposure to alternative methods is limited."

He understood what the man implied. "Yeah."

"The obsession with adultery certainly makes sense now."

House looked stumped.

"I investigated your shooter and grudge with the chief surgeon."

"I didn't notice that." He was impressed.

Nolan was glad to see a fledging sign of professional respect. "Can I make another observation?"

House made no move to protest it.

"Earlier on you rejected physical contact. Twice actually, and quite agitated - even if it was intended to comfort. Am I correct to assume that in your early experiences it was usually an expression of punishment, rather than affection?"

He nodded in regret.

"Have you ever sabotaged a relationship, not necessarily romantic, but didn't know why?"

House sighed, suddenly tired. "All the time."

"Fear of betrayal and aversion to physical intimacy." Nolan explained. "I imagine it must be confusing when the positive things feel wrong."

"You have no idea." House felt relief at having the old, frustrating mystery unraveled.

"I also noticed you place a high value on knowledge."

"It's what I'm good at." House felt like he was making an excuse for it.

"It's not unhealthy to base self-worth on one's strongest quality." Nolan reassured. "Just try not to fear not knowing. Even if there are patients involved. Nobody's perfect."

House suppressed the urge to give a counter-argument he knew was insane, and wondered briefly if he really was sick.

"I'd rather you lose sleep over a lost patient than lose your life trying to save one, especially since they might already be beyond saving."

"You saw the deep brain stimulation?" House guessed at Nolan's deduction.

"That, the physo, walking into quarantine, biopsy on yourself, transfusion of suspect blood…" Nolan trailed off. "Your life is worth just as much as theirs. More if we compare the number of people saved."

House shrunk visually, the probing now eerily uncomfortable.

"I'm not doing this to degrade you." Nolan explained. "Just trying to get the lay of the land. And just to let you know, your responses to everything I've mentioned are appropriate for a properly wired-up mind. I would actually be worried if you _didn't_ turn out like this."

House seemed to relax. "So now what?"

Nolan considered it. "It would be best to start you on medication for symptoms."

"No thanks. I almost lost a patient on SSRIs when I missed her leprechauns."

Nolan looked at House wearily.

"Not literately!" House groaned. "She had an arterial-venous bridge in her abdomen that went on and off depending on the peristaltic." He explained. "Seriously, a little trust would be nice."

Nolan winched. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "Then just initially, until you get back to work."

"How long is that?" House was tentative. "I mean, involuntary is indefinite. You could keep me here forever."

Nolan saw the deep panic in his eyes. "Three months."

He was relieved by a tangible goal.

"I'll recommend you to the board after one month of inpatient therapy and two months outpatient. _If_ you stop sabotaging things and cooperate." He warned. "I'll also return your status to voluntary." He worked to undo the error of doubt.

A knot of tension House failed to notice unraveled from his gut. "I won't take off." He promised.

"Glad to hear it." Nolan smiled. "Now in the long run we need to make some deeper personality changes."

House felt queasy. "I don't like the sound of _that_."

"Would you trade a little doubt for a little happiness?"

House considered it seriously. "Yes." He spoke determined.

"Then we will condition you to trust. Set up some kind of risk reward system."

House was surprised. "Pavlov's dogs?"

"Old tricks are the best." Nolan pointed out. "Your fellow patients would be perfect practice."

"I'm not giving blackmail material to a bunch of strangers." House was weary again. "Besides, it's pointless. They're helpless."

"That was sort of my point." Nolan caught his attention. "Most of them wouldn't know how to use it against you even if they wanted to." He pointed out. "Start from the harmless and work your way up."

House mused. "The cello girl looks like a listener."

"May I suggest Dr Randall?" Nolan offered.

"Nah." House made a sour face. "I think I'll save her for last."

"Eventually you'll have to deal with competent strangers too. But before you get out, you need to get rid of old grudges. Otherwise you'll just end up where you started."

He looked up with a question in his eyes.

"You said people were inconsiderate of you, and pretty much everyone thinks you're the same. That makes for a lot of bad blood. Fortunately, forgiveness is like trust - the best chance of getting it is by giving it."

House frowned. "You want me to kiss and make up?"

"Figuratively speaking." Nolan smirked. "Three tips-" He held up a finger to count. "Go first, start small and be genuine. If you don't feel sorry, do some solo role-playing and put yourself in their position. I know you can." He persisted. "By the time you reach the big stuff they'll take you seriously and let you off the hook. That will release you of the guilt." He spoke solemnly, knowingly.

He was dumbstruck, unaware of the depth of Nolan's understanding.

Nolan nodded his admission. "I wouldn't be surprised if your leg pain decreases too."

"And then I ask _them _to apologize?"

Nolan shook his head. "It doesn't work if you demand it. What you _can _do is tell me the worst transgressions and I will make the involved aware. Then when you apologize to them for a mistake of similar gravity, they will feel obliged to reciprocate."

"You'd do that for me?" House found it hard to believe.

"Consider it community therapy."

"And that will make things better?" He was hopeful yet tentative.

"Getting rid of all that resentment? - I should hope so." Nolan nodded. "But this will only give you a fresh start." He warned. "You'll have to build the trust from scratch."

House nodded.

"Finally we'll have to desensitize your allergy to human contact."

"Should I get an epi pen?" House quipped in reflex defensiveness.

Nolan grinned broadly, all the way to his eyes. As the smile subsided, he turned serious, as if having second thoughts. Finally he spoke. "Just so you know, you couldn't have seen Dr Kutner's death coming."

The words intrigued House more than comforted.

"To recognize his recklessness as subconsciously suicidal you would first have to be aware of the implications of your own. At the time, you could not face it."

House was unconvinced.

"Also, you lacked the critical clue."

He frowned.

"Dr Taub admitted having a hypothetical argument about suicide with Dr Kutner."

House's eyes grew saucer-like. When surprised subsided he connected the dots. "Taub was the one against it."

"If anyone should have been alarmed, it was him."

"He should have told me." House mumbled, staring off numbly. "Should have done something."

"He is aware and regretting it." Nolan informed. "Perhaps this is something you can forgive him for."

House nodded absently.

Nolan allowed House time to distance himself from the subject before moving on. "I think we made great progress today." He was truly satisfied. "We established a level playfield, sketched out the problems and made a plan."

House didn't look nearly as happy.

"Remember what I told you when you arrived?" Nolan nudged.

He squirmed like a man helpless to escape.

"I really believe it." Nolan persisted. "Not many people have the courage to seek help from strangers at their most vulnerable. You did the right thing, coming here."

House felt tears spill down his cheeks and quickly buried his face between enveloped knees to hide the growing humiliation.

Nolan was momentarily stumped but recovered quickly and gingerly wrapped a massive arm around House's back.

House stiffened under his touch.

"I won't hurt you." Nolan's big, flat palm massaged his shoulder. "Venting doesn't make you a sissy." he assured. "Let it out. The more you let go of, the less it will hurt."

House was tense for the longest time before finally giving into the gentle touch and soundless torrent. "Why now?" he moaned quietly as muffled sobs racked his body.

"Better late than never." Nolan quipped, trying to ease the man.

He shook with a sob. "Why you? Why here?"

"Because you needed to hear it and I wanted to tell you. And because this is as good a place as any."

Silent, shuddering hiccups went on for a long time.

As House finally calmed, Nolan pulled away slowly, leaving one hand between the man's shoulder-blades. "It's getting dark." He looked up at the milky ceiling window that was turning dark grey.

"Sorry." House wiped a wet face, still folded over himself.

"Don't apologize for needing help."

"You missed the meeting." He persisted, unable to see Nolan's reasoning.

"I doubt Randall will have an identity crisis over it." Nolan assured. "Want to go to your room now?"

"I'd rather stay here." He straightened a bit. "I'll just get frustrated, take it out on someone and end up back here, anyway."

"Might as well save us the trouble, huh?"

House nodded.

"You'll have to eventually leave, you know. We might need the room for someone else."

He smirked.

Nolan looked inspired. "What if I start you with full privileges and subtract one for every misdeed?"

House looked at once confused and curious. "Passes too?" He was cautious.

"Can you handle a bus?" Nolan returned.

House shrugged. "Wilson could pick me up."

"No offense, but I saw how you arrived. I wouldn't call that being brought in, more like dropped off."

He swallowed hard, his face sad.

"If he's willing to drive you to and from here twice a day for PT and therapy I'll give you both passes daily."

Realization struck House. "How is that different from being outpatient?"

"Practically it isn't. But if you miss a session you're absent without leave and I get to deny you those passes." Nolan offered his hand. "Deal?"

House fidgeted with his fingers. "Not yet." He said, somewhere between rejection and plea.

"Alright." Nolan sighed, endeavoring to keep his patience. "But I can't have you sensory deprived." He reached for something in his blazer. "Pretty sure you can't hurt yourself with this." A golf-sized ball of bright orange rubber appeared on stubby fingers.

House kept switching his gaze from the ball and Nolan, his expressions torn between uncertainty and longing.

Nolan tossed House the ball and smiled as the man caught it. "Knock yourself out." He stood, helping House up as well. "Get some sleep." the giant advised in a grandfatherly tone. "We'll talk again in the morning."

House nodded absentmindedly. His eyes were still on the ball when the door closed behind Nolan.

**The End**


End file.
